


The Fiction That Is Stillness

by heroictype (swanreaper)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 13:17:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16933944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanreaper/pseuds/heroictype
Summary: "Stay tuned next for disarmingly high-pitched music; enough glittering, multi-hued lights to put a low-budget sci-fi film to shame; and two men riding on things that spin until they understand the fiction that is stillness on this wild earth."





	The Fiction That Is Stillness

Cecil was still several feet away from Carlos when he stretched out his hand, but he could not keep still, nor he could he restrain himself to only the motion of walking. Carlos inspired more, waiting in the sunset, in the dim, orange shadow of the ticket booth. The last light caught in his hair, perfectly gelled into perfect place, and drew out the red of his lab coat. 

Carlos stepped away from the gate, closing the distance and taking Cecil's hand a moment before Cecil had anticipated.

Carlos grinned. "Hey, babe! You look _cute_ tonight!"

"Oh, do I? I hadn't noticed. I mean, uh. Wait." Cecil laughed. "I was just thinking about how great you look. Wonderful. You are wonderful."

"Right. I was thinking the same thing, but about you." Carlos nodded decisively, and pivoted to stand next to his husband. He slipped his elbow through Cecil's, and leaned his head against the radio host's shoulder. "Are you ready to go?"

"So ready! I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

"Oh, no. I'm just excited. Since you are wonderful, and I am wonderful, this makes an equation where we are wonderful together, or double-wonderful, scientifically speaking. And so there is a high chance that we will have a great time. Or, I'm sorry, a wonderful time."

There was a carnival in Night Vale. They had decided that morning to go, and exchange fiat cash for meta-fiat coupons.

It was a bright place. Artificial, but not mean-spirited.  Crafted, but crudely, with an enthusiasm that aimed for _childish_ but landed firmly in _overeager._ And it was wonderful.

They considered their options. Carlos pointed out the teacup ride, flapping eagerly with his free arm. Cecil pointed out the short line, and the oversized, murky shape at the back tipping the cups into its thirsty mouth. The line was short because new seats were constantly opening up.

The carousel proved less lethal, while still providing enough horror for a good time. Cecil spotted Carlos with a hand just over the small of his back as he climbed onto a multi-limbed beast. When Carlos was settled, then Cecil touched him. He let his hand rest, just for a moment, on the base of Carlos' spine. Then Cecil pulled himself onto the beast next to Carlos'. The painted limbs were joined with plastic-molded ribbons between them, and they rested their hands together on top.

When the ride was over, Cecil hopped down, but Carlos stopped him, flapping again in a particular direction. "Wait a second, Ceec!"

Cecil let his husband lead him to a mock-carriage seat, just the right size for two. One of operators approached them.

"Hey, uh, you got another ticket? It's one ticket per ride."

"Well," said Cecil. "We haven't gotten off. It's the same ride for us."

"No, a ride is… one cycle, you know?" The operator spun a finger in a circle.

Cecil mimicked the gesture. "Ah, we all ride for one cycle on this carousel of life. There are no more. No more chances, no more tickets, in the end. But tonight, on this carousel of plastic and glamour, let us ride again?"

He smiled slyly, and offered the operator a five dollar bill. They slipped it into their pocket, and wandered silently away.

Cecil looked at Carlos, who was watching his husband with his chin in his hand, his arm on the elbow of the carriage seat. Cecil confided, "There's no way they're paying him enough."

Carlos watched Cecil. His proud, thin smile; his idea of daring, maybe a little wicked, but, you know, in a fun way. Carlos hooked his ankle over Cecil's and slid closer on the bench, catching one hand lightly on the back of Cecil's head. He misjudged the distance, and their foreheads hit.

"Oops! Sorry, hon."

Cecil laughed, and it was soft and honest, a whisper of a laugh that Carlos had never heard on the radio. Cecil began, "It's alright- Mmm!"

Carlos kissed his husband, and caught Cecil's pleased hum in the back of his own throat. The ride started up again, carrying them into the true night.

And after. After, in the true night, broken and then mended again by every neon shade.

They sat in cheap, plastic seats. Cecil let his foot swing against the leg of the chair, and tore off a thick wisp of cotton candy, and let it melt away into flavor. He listened to Carlos telling him it was made; the sugar turned molten and spun into filaments, the sheer force needed to make their fragile treat.

"Scientifically speaking, it makes a lot of energy to make. That is why children - and sometimes adults - get excited after eating it. All that energy needs to go somewhere. Also, it's pure sugar. There's that, too."

"Interesting," said Cecil, and he had never meant anything more in his life, although he had meant some things as much. He leaned the cone toward Carlos. It was sweeter to share.

Carlos mocked birds. It was a simple matter of pattern recognition - those with bright plumage were sensitive about it, those with large beaks that could not easily get seeds could be bribed to look sad. Look away from anything with sharp talons. His eyes flicked from bird to bird, processing which technique would be effective for which specimen. The scientist claimed the grand prize easily, beaming as he took it from the disgruntled operator.

Carlos held the stuffed rabbit up in front of himself. It was as large as his torso, with limbs like sacks and orange, inch-thick polyester fluff. Cecil considered it. He placed a hand between its ears and pushed down, leaning over it to kiss his husband. He bent into the kiss on one leg, and the rabbit was caught, squished between them.

The line for the ferris wheel was the longest. Carlos was yawning by the time they reached the end, but he insisted on riding. The operator sealed them into the car. There was a sign above the window in bright red letters, urging riders to close their eyes at the top, lest they see something terrible. It would be a lie, of course, this thing they would see. But they would see it, and, unable to forget, would never again know peace.

But they had never known peace, maybe. Maybe they hadn't, and really, what would that even mean? They didn't know much at all, but they knew some things, and because of what they knew, they peeked. Carlos rested his head on Cecil's shoulder, and Cecil rested his head on Carlos', and they looked out over their home from the top of the ferris wheel. In the distance, and higher, the lights above the Arby's looked out over them all.

"Is it what you wanted?" Carlos whispered. "I know you've been waiting for this."

"Mhm," Cecil murmured. He shifted, just enough to kiss Carlos' hair. "This. This is what I wanted, yes. Oh, Carlos…"

The wheel spun them slowly back to the earth.

"Cecil?"

"Yes?"

"Just… I love you."

"Oh! Oh, I love you, too!"

The ride stopped. Cecil pushed himself out of the car, and offered Carlos a hand to help him back onto the dust. They stepped out of the way and stood, holding each other, as still as they were ever going to be. They kissed, and their hearts beat. They were not still at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Let Cecil and Carlos go on a cute carnival date... that's all I ask
> 
> I lost count of how many times they kissed (I mean, it's not that many, but maybe a relatively high amount for the word count) and I'm not sorry. 
> 
> It also ended up being a pretty Night Valean carnival, I guess.


End file.
